Most Dangerous
by Arianna083
Summary: What began as her secret is about to become her reality. (AU Modern, One-shot, E/C)


Most dangerous

Is that temptation that doth goad us on

To sin in loving virtue

~ **William Shakespeare** , Measure for Measure (1603), Act II, scene 2, line 181.

* * *

Sunday, 06/10/2016

 **01001:** Do you know what the most dangerous element in the universe is?

She hadn't heard her phone buzz softly at first. Rolling over onto her side, she tried in vain to ignore her aching muscles, protesting loudly at even this slight movement. She had been dreaming, or rather she had been daydreaming. Floating weightlessly in the space that hovered near sleep. The glow of her phone's screen caught her eye, and before she could think better of it she slipped it from her night table and read the text message that waited patiently, as though aware she was still bleary eyed and too sore to move with any kind of efficiency.

She focused on the bright screen, her heart immediately giving a familiar leap. Something both warm and electric spiked her blood. Her fingers shook slightly as she swiped them across the screen, quickly activating her keypad to formulate a reply. She was tired, that was all. After six hours of grueling rehearsals and one near miss when she slipped backstage and nearly toppled down several flights of stairs, it was to be expected.

She had tapped out half her reply automatically before she realized how easy it was becoming to lie to herself. She had wanted this. Waited with anticipation. It was insane, but it was her lifeline.

"I always have these random people texting me. Once this girl thought I was her boyfriend, and kept accusing me of sleeping with her friend. Honestly, she kept messaging me the whole day. By the end of it, I'd finally convinced her I wasn't him and was giving her life advice. Me. So…yeah, now I never answer anything unless I recognize the number. Hey, didn't you get a random text yesterday too, Chris?"

Meg was right. She should never have replied the first time. Or the second. It was almost surreal, the way it had eventually all played out. As though nothing had ever been in her control to begin with.

Temples throbbing somewhat she finished her reply and sent it, watching it appear beneath the question that lately had been on her own mind. How did he do it? How did he manage to pull out all of the thoughts she was desperately trying to compartmentalize into oblivion?

 **Christine:** Didn't Einstein hypothesize stupidity, and carbon? After my own near death experience this afternoon, I would have to agree. The stupid part, not the carbon.

Within seconds her phone buzzed.

 **01001:** Stupidity is certainly abundant and most definitely dangerous, but not an adjective I would use to describe you. How are you feeling?

Despite her misgivings, she felt a little jolt of excitement ripple through her. Perhaps it was the anonymity of her conversations with the ambiguous person only known to her as 01001, but there was something in the way he (or maybe she—how was she to truly know?) phrased things, that made her blush with pleasure. He never failed to lift her spirits, evoking something within her she couldn't quite explain. Nevertheless, it made her feel less like she was adrift on an endless sea, a lone survivor with only memories to sustain her. Memories of family. Of hearing her father practicing the violin upstairs, while she did her homework. Of feeling needed.

It was ridiculous, she knew. She was obviously superimposing some kind of romantic ideal to fit the circumstances. After all, how can you honestly say you are attracted to someone you've never met? To have never heard the way their voice changes when they're upset or happy, or seen their eyes light up when you walk into the room?

Could you truly know someone intimately, deeply and more fully than anyone else with just words alone?

Despite all the reasons she shouldn't, she couldn't stop. Though she hated to admit it, there was something addictive about the mystery. The unknown. The more she communicated with her anonymous confidant the harder it was to convince herself to simply not reply.

Though probably an illusion, it was her secret. She didn't want to let it go.

Rolling with some discomfort onto her back, she stretched her sore legs a little and felt some relief as she sank into her soft mattress. How _did_ she feel?

 _Rub-down with a baseball bat comes to mind. Thank god that workman was there to catch me, or I'd probably be in traction._

 **Christine:** Good, though I'm still in bed. You saved me from giving in to sloth-hood and sleeping past a respectable hour. I'm in your debt. :)

Did she have to use the smiley-heart-eyed emoji?

 **01001:** I'll remember that. I'm delighted to hear you're resting. You deserve it.

She felt her cheeks flush.

 **Christine:** Thank you. How are you feeling today? Any big plans? Or are you having a pajama day too?

For a moment, no reply came. She waited, grateful that the sky outside her bedroom window was a stormy, pearly grey. Rain drizzled against the glass; she hoped it would storm all day. Thunder rumbled just as her phone lit up—and then everything stopped. Shock, as potent as icy water doused her senses. Incredulous, she had to re-read the words on her screen twice before any kind of emotion kicked into gear.

 **01001:** I was hoping to ask you out for coffee, if you would like. There is a place not far from you that serves espresso. I believe you've been there quite often.

Her stomach flipped, and a rush of panicked exhilaration momentarily robbed her of breath. After so many months of conversations that ranged from late-night marathons to quick, unexpected messages throughout the day, never once had they talked about meeting. And they talked about everything.

 _I would love to travel someday. Just have to save up!_

 _You will travel. Anywhere you wish. Tell me, where would you like to go first?_

 _I'm scared to sing again._

 _You'll sing. It's in you. Be patient with yourself._

 _I can't believe you like AC/DC._

 _Why not? My tastes are varied. I've made it a point of contention to study music in all its forms. I also enjoy a good Gregorian chant when I'm in the mood._

 _You're a composer, then? I'd love to hear your work!_

 _Perhaps someday. Robin Hood is on Netflix. Errol Flynn._

 _Omg...how did I miss that!? Watch it with me and Don?_

 _Is Don a fan?_

 _Of course! He's a fan of the couch, which is where the TV and my lap are..._

 _Lol. An enviable proposition..._

Her mind raced, recalling all of the times he had evaded questions that veered toward a personal nature. No name offered. She had never pried, or pushed the topic. They were never meant to meet. They simply confided in each other, laughed with each other. Flirted with each other.

Her pulse quickened.

… _not far from you._

He knew where she lived.

… _believe you've been there often._

Reality was unmerciful. She should change her number. Notify someone. She should do anything, _anything_ but what she knew she would.

 **Christine:** What time?

Sent. Breathless. Craziness. What the hell was she doing? Her phone was silent for a long moment where not even the rain, now battering her windows in earnest registered. Then, so suddenly she couldn't help but start and almost drop it, it buzzed.

 **01001:** Whenever you wish. I thought you might like to watch the storm from somewhere warm and safe.

 _Safe._

A public place. But she was safe here, in her own apartment, wrapped in her own duvet and pillows. Even her cat, Don, was nestled somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, buried beneath the blankets. Put down the phone. Just put it down, and go to sleep. Forget everything. Forget _this._

 **01001:** Do you truly wish to know what the most dangerous element in the universe is, Christine?

Rolling onto her side, she gazed at the screen and tried to keep the torrent of emotions crashing down on her at bay. As though if she just stayed here, in bed like she did when she was little and had a bad cold, she could avoid everything for just one more day. Safe.

 **Christine:** Yes…what is it?

She tapped the send button, and squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she do this to herself?

 _You're lonely. I know. Your sweetness… your innate kindness is always mistaken for weakness. Compassion is not for the weak, angel. It is for the divine._

She remembered his words, and how they had made her eyes fill with hot tears. She hadn't cried in months. Her heart had felt full to the brim. Now, her heartbeat ticked away the seconds, counting down to some unknown outcome that seemed so inevitable. She opened her eyes, and the screen lit up.

 **01001:** Hope.

Fingers, usually so quick and nimble faltered. Auto-correct pieced her back together again.

 **Christine:** Meet me in an hour. I'll be there.

She lay motionless, phone in one hand, staring at her unsent message. She should delete it, but she couldn't. So she left it hanging, a decision only half-made.

 **01001:** No matter what happens, I want you to know that I will never forget your kindness.

She hit send.

* * *

 **Very AU, I wasn't sure if I was going to post this...I may continue it at some point, I just have way too many short stories piling up on my computer! Thank you so much for reading! :)**


End file.
